O! WERE I one of the Olympian twelve, Their godships should pass this into a law,-- That when a man doth set himself in toil After some beauty veiled far away, Each step he took should make his lady's hand More soft, more white, and her fair cheek more fair; And for each briar-berry he might eat, A kiss should bud upon the tree of love, And pulp and ripen richer every hour, To melt away upon the traveller's lips. |